


March Drabbles

by blacklitchick



Category: Richonne - Fandom, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacklitchick/pseuds/blacklitchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of three drabbles I wrote in March for the March Rainy Day and Rick Grimes Fiction Appreciation Week from richonnefics on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	March Drabbles

 

**Book**

_"I know why we try to keep the dead alive: we try to keep them alive in order to keep them with us. I also know that if we are to live ourselves there comes a point at which we must relinquish the dead, let them go, keep them dead." - Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking_

Michonne didn't wipe away the tear until it rolled under her chin. She felt immobile staring up at the ceiling trying to wrestle with the emotions that had come upon her. The book lay face down on her chest; hiding the words she just read. With a sigh she sat up and tossed it to the other side of the bed. Her index finger wiped away the tears that were still forming in the corners of her eyes. So much for a little light reading.

Sunshine usually lit their bedroom brightly in the afternoon, but the downcast sky made 2:00 pm look more like 8:00 pm. The dreary day had the kids in a lackadaisical mood. Judith was napping and Carl had barely made a peep since lunch. Any alone time was rare and Michonne knew she should probably enjoy the respite, but she wanted Rick home. He'd been gone since the morning before on an overnight run. Worry wasn't fueling her need to have him back. She just missed him. At that moment more than ever. Laying next to him brought her more comfort and joy than felt in a long time.

Downstairs she put a kettle of water on the stove for some tea to help combat the chill that was running through her. Rick's denim shirt hung off her small frame as she walked over to the kitchen table where a small box stood open. A baby shower was being planned for Maggie and she'd been gathering all the items Judith had outgrown.

A nearly brand new, red _Mommy's Little Helper_ bib was folded on top. She always bypassed that one when feeding Judith. She couldn't deal with seeing it around the baby's neck. Her Peanut had an exact replica years ago.

The pure happiness she'd been feeling lately had shreds of gulit and pain at the edges. It broke her heart that she'd never see her baby boy on this realm again, but she knew it was time to let him go; let him rest in peace. She put her face to the small of cloth and breathed in; almost smelling his sweet tears she cried this time were happy as she thought of the good times.

The front door creaked open and an exhausted Rick shuffled through. He eased the orange backpack - full of things he'd found for his family - down to the floor. It felt good to be home. All he wanted at the moment was to hug and kiss the kids then wrap himself around Michonne the rest of the day.

He heard the tea kettle whistle from the kitchen and headed in that direction. The sight of his love crying next to the table made his brow crease in worry and set him on alert.

"Michonne? Baby, what's wrong?" He rushed over to her

Wordlessly she showed him the bib. He tilted his head to the side in confusion and stared into her eyes. Then it dawned on him. He just knew without her having to say anything.

He pulled her into his arms. "Oh, baby. I'm so sorry."

Michonne smiled through her tears as she held on to the man she loved. "His name was Andre."

* * *

**Pouring**

Hands interlocked as they made a dash for the nearest cover. The sky had erupted without warning. Howling wind sent the rain flying slanted; soaking their bodies from every direction as the droplets hit the ground with a machine gun force. The simple white tank top Michonne wore became transparent as it was plastered to her body. Rick's light grey t-shirt clung to his sculpted pecs. As a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky the two reached the church and ran inside. Puddles of water cascaded off the both of them leaving a trail from the door to where the stood in front of the windows. The sweet sound of her laughter filled the church as she watched Rick shake himself like a dog.

"You're getting water all over me," she said.

"You're already wet," Rick countered.

"And I don't need any more water on me."

Rick just grinned and lifted his shirt to wipe the moisture from his face as he watched Michonne slipped off her headband to use it as a hair tie. She pulled her dripping hair off of her shoulders into a bun. Her back arched as she leaned down to get a good look at the downpour.

"It doesn't look as if it's stopping anytime soon," she said.

Rick stood inches away from her planning to take a look out of the window too, but became distracted by the contours of her body. The way her clothes now clung to her like a second skin made his hands drop down to grip her waist. Michonne turned her head to see the lust in his eyes.

"Rick..." she warned.

He moved his hands under her top to feel her slick, wet skin. "Why, not?"

"Because this is a church."

"This is just four walls and a roof, baby." His hands roamed up to cup her breast through the thin, lace bra. He leaned down to place a kiss on the nape of her neck; moving his lips upwards until he reached her ear. "Nobody's here but me and you," he whispered.

Michonne gasped as he pulled her against his body and she could feel the hardness of his arousal.

"Like you said it doesn't look like it goin' to let up anytime soon. We gotta do somethin' to pass the time," he continued to whisper in her ear.

"Mmmm," was her only response as his hand slipped into her pants.

Father Gabriel heard noises coming from the front of the church. Peeking his head out of his office he saw a shirt being thrown in the air and a tangle of bodies laying down in the back pew. He immediately jumped back.

"Dear, Jesus," he whispered as he exited through the back door. Fighting through the heavy rain seemed to be the better option than making his presence known to the two warriors.

* * *

**Something Special**

He wanted it to be perfect.

The flickering candles casted a warm glow over the white plates. The gold trim on the dishes caught the flames at the right angle causing them to sparkle on the table. Fresh apple cider - made from apples picked from one of the many trees growing in the back of the ASZ morning was encased in a vase in the middle of the table.

Rick stood in the kitchen with his hair neatly combed back and in a new pair of black jeans. In one hand he held a large silver spoon dripping with pasta sauce. In the other a dish rag. He stared down at his crisp white button-down where an offending red stain took up the majority of the lower right side.

"Gotdammit."

He tried to keep his frustration in check as he dabbed at the spot with the towel. Though he only succeeded in making it bigger. He tossed the rag into the sink along with the spoon and unhooked the detachable faucet to try to wash out the stain. The pressure was turned on to the highest setting making water fly everywhere and soaking the shirt through to the skin.

"Son of a bitch."

Drenched all over his upper body, he took off the garment and wrung it out in the sink. He found another rag to wipe up the water that had spilled onto the floor. Curls on his head wiggled out of place as he took his frustration out on the floor; scrubbing harder than he needed to. A loose thread in the stitching of his jeans snagged on a cabinet door as he moved to stand again. The audible rip exposed his leg from the knee down to the ankle.

"Fuckin' unbelievable."

He looked at his watch grateful he still had another forty-five minutes before Michonne was due home. The gratitude was short-lived as he heard the jiggle of the front doorknob. He spun in a circle not knowing what to do.

"Hey, babe," Michonne called out. "Crazy day. Carol took over watch duties early so..." She paused at the entrance of the kitchen. An eyebrow went up and her head tilted to the side as she took in his appearance. "Why does it look like you've been in a fight?"

"Michonne, I..." He started until he saw his wife point at something behind him.

White smoke was billowing out of the oven. He opened the door to even more smoke. He coughed as he removed the dinner rolls that were now burnt beyond recognition.

Rick threw the charred dough in the trash then turned to look at his love unable to mask the disappointment all over his face.

"I just wanted surprise you with something nice," he sighed. "Made dinner. Was going to draw you hot bubble bath. Kids are with Gabriel. You deserve a relaxing night. But I screwed everything up."

"No," Michonne said.

"No?" Rick looked at her confused.

"No, you didn't screw up anything." She looked at the table setting and the pot of pasta still intact on the stove. "This is perfect." She smiled at him. " _You_ are perfect."

Relief came over him as he finally smiled. "Just trying to live up to your example, baby."

She maneuvered around the kitchen island to where he stood. A small puddle of water was still on the floor causing her to slip and fall right into his arms. Both were laughing as their lips met in a kiss.

"So what was this about a hot bath?" She pulled at the waist of his jeans as she sexily beckoned him to follow her up the stairs with the crook of a finger.


End file.
